


To Cheat Death

by Cdelphiki



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Batman: A Death in the Family Fix-It, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, But it's okay I have a permit that says I can do whatever I want in fanfic, Canon-Typical Violence, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I know DC says Jason dies but I REALLY think they meant 'cries', Jason Todd is Robin, Maybe Not Canon Compliant, Near Death Experiences, its an honest mistake the words sound similar so its okay DC I fixed it Jason just cries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24028240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cdelphiki/pseuds/Cdelphiki
Summary: In the moment Bruce found his broken, battered son under the rubble of that God-forsaken warehouse, Bruce did something he rarely did.He called out for help.Perhaps that's what saved his son's life.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 58
Kudos: 1101





	To Cheat Death

Bruce was a mere half mile from the warehouse when it exploded.

A half mile.

At ninety miles per hour, he was less than a minute from the warehouse.

A minute.

Never in his life had Bruce felt that panicked.

The warehouse itself was entirely inconsequential. Bruce didn’t care what happened to it. The fewer abandoned warehouses in the world, the better, probably.

His problem was Jason.

He didn’t see Jason.

Anywhere.

He’d told the boy. He’d specifically told him “ _Stay.”_

Stay with Shelia outside and don’t go after Joker.

And Jason said he’d listen.

He’d _promised._

So where the fuck was he??

Dread coiled deep in Bruce’s stomach as he stopped in front of the warehouse.

Jason had saved himself from situations like this dozens of times. Bruce, logically, knew that he shouldn’t be panicking like he was, because Jason was Jason. He was competent.

Strong. Resilient. Brilliant. Talented. Incredible.

So many words that boiled down to Bruce shouldn’t be worried.

But something felt off.

There was a voice in his ear. A little niggle.

And it sounded like laughing.

That’s how Bruce found himself digging through the rubble frantically, screaming Jason’s name.

Not even Robin.

But _Jason._

At that moment, Bruce didn’t care about anything but finding his son.

He’d give anything to go back twenty minutes and argue with Jason longer. If it meant sparing himself this panic.

This horrible, visceral feeling that he was too late.

That his son was dead.

How could anyone survive that explosion?

“He saved me,” he heard a woman say, from about fifteen feet to his left. Her raspy voice only adding to the dread he felt. “He’s a hero... he...”

“Where is he,” Bruce shouted. He didn’t care if Jason saved the entire world. He just wanted to see him. To know he was okay.

Shelia pointed toward what was once the corner of the warehouse, where a significant amount of rubble had landed.

And the panic only intensified.

Looking back, Bruce couldn’t remember what happened between. One second he was pulling rubble off as fast as he could, the next he was kneeling next to his boy, tears streaming down his face.

Somehow, Clark had gotten there.

Well, obviously he’d flown there, but Bruce couldn’t for the life of him remember if he’d called for Clark or if he’d showed on his own.

It was very possible he’d started shouting his name upon realizing how bad off Jason was.

But now that Jason was uncovered, Bruce knew they were too late.

If it weren’t for the Robin uniform, Bruce wouldn’t have even recognized his son.

“He doesn’t have a pulse,” Bruce mumbled, ripping his glove off in hopes that he just couldn’t feel it, “There’s no- he doesn’t-“

CPR. He had to do CPR.

Less than a minute.

He’d been less than a minute away.

Why couldn’t he have been _faster._

But these injuries...

Bruce placed his hands on Jason’s chest, ready to start compressions, when his hand hit something jagged. Something jagged and wet. He pulled back, like it had stung him.

Because, in a way, it had.

“His ribs,” Bruce choked out, trying his best to keep his vision clear and his emotions stable. Even though his best wasn’t good enough, “Clark his _ribs.”_

There wasn’t a single one intact. Every one was broken. Several in a couple places. Bruce couldn’t do CPR. He’d only be further damaging the heart. The ribs. If Jason weren’t already- if he weren’t-

He had been _less than a minute away._

But even if he’d been a minute faster. Even if he’d been _five_ minutes faster. With these injuries…

Jason wouldn’t have survived them anyway.

“Bruce,” Clark said, tugging at his arm, trying to get him to stand and move, “we have to get him to Watchtower.”

Watchtower?

Why would they do that? It was too late.

They were too late.

Jason was still warm. Like he were just sleeping, but Bruce knew.

He _knew_.

Jason was never going to wake up.

They were too late.

It wasn’t until Clark said, “No we aren’t,” did Bruce realize he’d been mumbling, “but we will be if we don’t go now.”

“He’s gone,” Bruce whispered, pulling Jason closer. Clinging to the boy in a way Jason would have never allowed.

“ _I’m too big for this_ ,” Jason would have mumbled, “S _top it old man I’m not a baby._ ”

Why couldn’t he whine about it? Whine and moan and push Bruce away. Be angry and mad all he wanted. Bruce would give anything to listen to Jason yell at him again.

“Raven is going to meet us there,” Clark said, forcing Bruce to his feet.

Curse him and his super strength.

Bruce blinked, as Clark’s words caught up with him.

“Raven?” he asked, trying to make sense of it.

Why would Clark call _Raven_ about this?

Had the girl even known Jason? There were probably half a dozen people who needed to be told, first.

Bruce didn’t want to do that. He just wanted to sit there and hold his child. And maybe just die with him.

_Why had he left Jason alone at all?_

“He’s not gone yet,” Clark said, as he pulled Bruce out of the still smoldering pile of rubble, “but we only have a couple more minutes.”

\- - -

Bruce was losing it.

The next thing he was aware of was Clark prying Jason out of his arms.

One moment he was on the ground, clutching his dead child. The next he was standing in the Watchtower, watching as Clark laid Jason down.

_Jason._

Lying on a table in medbay, while Raven started running her hands over Jason’s _many_ injuries.

That was not something Bruce had _ever_ wanted to see.

Neither of his boys belonged in medbay. Neither of them deserved to be hurt.

What could Raven even do? She didn’t have the power to bring people back from the dead, last Bruce checked.

Parents weren’t supposed to outlive their children.

God. He’d only had a few years with Jason.

And his boy, his tiny little boy was lying on the table, unconscious.

No.

Worse than unconscious. He hadn’t had a heartbeat since Bruce found him.

Hadn’t been breathing.

He was too small. Had Jason always been that tiny?

Bruce should have never left him alone. He was too small. Too young. What had he been thinking?

“Let her work,” Clark was saying, from where he’d apparently grabbed onto Bruce, pinning his arms to his side and dragging him away from Jason again, “Bruce you have to let her work.”

“Clark,” he said, a horrible choked off sound. Why was Clark doing this? Why wouldn’t he just let him hold Jason? He just wanted to hold his boy.

Hold his boy and die.

His entire life he thought losing his parents was the worst thing he’d ever go through, but no.

He was wrong.

He was utterly, completely, and overwhelmingly wrong.

Jason was never going to grow up. Bruce would never see-

A blinding light appeared right at Raven’s hand, where she had it hovered directly over Jason’s heart. Raven’s face pinched as she clenched her jaw. After a moment, a low moan turned into a whine, then to a scream.

And Bruce couldn’t breathe.

How could Raven _do that_ if Jason were…

He shook Clark off of him and stumbled forward, barely restraining himself from running his hand through Jason’s hair as he watched. Prayed. _Hoped._

And then, once Raven’s pained shouts reached their peak, Jason took a long, sharp, ragged inhale.

Bruce burst like a balloon.

If he hadn’t been crying before, he was now. He couldn’t even find enough of himself to _care._ After ripping off his cowl, he moved to stand at Jason’s head and knelt over, touching his forehead as gently as he could to Jason’s, his hands on either side of Jason’s face.

His horribly swollen face.

God. Was his skull fractured, too? His nose and cheek clearly were.

Jason started crying, then. Still unconscious. Still completely out of it. But now _there_ enough to _cry._

Bruce never in his life thought he’d celebrate hearing his child _cry._

“Jason,” he blubbered, running his thumbs in circles at Jason’s temples, hoping that at some level, Jason could feel it. Could hear him, and would know he was _there._ “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He was saying it more for himself than anything.

“Bruce,” J’onn said, and when had _J’onn_ gotten there? When Bruce looked up, he saw Zatanna, too. Her and Raven both working diligently on Jason’s chest. J’onn looked like he was straining himself, too, with one hand on Jason.

Blocking his pain, probably.

“Come on,” Clark said, motioning for Bruce to step _away_ from Jason, “Walk with me.”

Like _hell-_

“Bruce, they need access to his head,” Clark explained, tugging at his sleeve, “Once they have his chest cavity fixed, his head is their next priority.”

And that— that—

Bruce was going to be sick. Yep. He was almost completely certain.

Those were words he _never_ wanted to hear.

“Come on,” Clark said, tugging on his arm again, this time succeeding in getting him to take a couple steps toward the door, “You need some air. And maybe some coffee.”

“I can’t leave-“ Bruce tried, but couldn’t get the sentence out. Because looking at Jason, all he could see was the broken. The horribly, terribly disfigured.

Jason… Jason might never recover from this. Even if Raven _did_ get him breathing again. _There_ again. He’d suffered so much damage.

_They had to fix his head._

“You are distracting them, Bruce,” Clark said, pulling him toward the door again, “I need you to be Batman for a few minutes. _Jason_ needs you to be Batman right now.”

That was what got him.

So Bruce squared his shoulders and took a breath. He had to get himself together. What the hell was wrong with him, letting it go like that? He had a level head. That was one of his _strengths._ Why had he lost that?

Bruce nodded once and stepped out of the room, only sparing one final look back at Jason before he let Clark lead him away from the medbay.

He needed to be Batman right now. Bruce could worry about his kid later.

At least, that’s what he _wanted_ his head to do.

Push everything down and be strong.

But…

It was difficult. When his boy had been dead.

Bruce had _held-_

With a deep breath, Bruce shook his head again and tried to dislodge the thoughts. What was _wrong_ with him. He’d never lost it like that.

He needed to stop thinking.

Stop thinking and get back in control.

The Watchtower was basically one large circle, spinning up in space. Every hall lead to every other hall, and it was possible to keep moving forward and eventually end back up where you started.

That’s what he and Clark did, for the first fifteen minutes they stayed out of Jason’s room. They took a lap around the entire Watchtower.

Neither of them spoke, that entire time, either. They didn’t have to. Bruce knew Clark was the talking type, when things got rough. When he had a bad day. When he needed support.

But Bruce wasn’t like that, and Clark knew _that._

It was enough for him, just to have his best friend standing next to him. Knowing he wasn’t alone. And knowing that, since Clark hadn’t rushed them back to Jason’s room, that everything was progressing smoothly back in medbay.

That was probably the only reason Bruce could stand to leave his room.

By the end of their loop, Bruce was feeling much more grounded. His heart rate had finally lowered, and he felt like he could _think_ again.

Jason was going to be okay. He was certain of it.

With Raven and Zatanna there, both doing everything they could in terms of healing, Bruce was _confident._

Never in his life did he think he’d be grateful to _Clark Kent_ in the way he was.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Bruce started, stopping before one of the outer windows, just before they reached the entrance for the medbay. He needed to thank Clark. Make sure he _knew_ how grateful Bruce was that _he’d_ kept his head on straight. That’ _he’d_ been thinking clearly enough to know to get Jason up here. To get Raven and Zatanna and Martian Manhunter there.

That he’d even showed up in that God forsaken warehouse in Ethiopia in the first place.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Clark said, joining Bruce next to the window to look out onto the Earth with him, “It was a natural reaction.”

“I shouldn’t have let my emotions cloud my judgement,” he said, matter of factly. It was true, after all. He _shouldn’t_ have.

But he did.

If it weren’t for Superman, it would have cost Jason his _life._

There was no way Bruce could ever forgive himself of that.

“Bruce,” Clark sighed, “There’s nothing wrong with how you reacted. You _love_ that kid.”

He did, didn’t he? Of course he did. He loved Jason so much it _hurt._ There was no way he could possibly live his life without that kid.

Not now.

Not after he’d spent the past three years with him. Watching him grow and learn and excel in everything he tried. His smiles and grins and the curls on his head. The way he chewed on his thumbnail while reading.

All his little outbursts, too. His teenage rebellion and attitude. The sass he gave Bruce, sometimes. Even their arguments.

He _loved_ Jason in his entirety.

Without him there, he would have missed _everything_ about him.

Had he ever told Jason that?

“Thanks,” Bruce rasped, then paused to clear his throat before attempting to finish the thought, “For…”

Why were words so _fucking_ hard? Jason would love to hear him say that word. He knew.

“Of course, Bruce,” Clark said anyway, despite Bruce’s inability to finish the thought. Clark wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, and Bruce was going to allow it… Only because he owed Clark his life. More than his life. Jason was worth so much more than everything Bruce had.

“It’s what friends are for. You would have done the same for me, if it were my boy.”

Yes. He would.

\- - -

When Bruce re-entered the medbay, he found Raven working on Jason’s head.

His face looked remarkably better. Without all the swelling, that was. He looked like Jason again. He was _recognizable._

Bruce could feel the hand around his heart relax, just a little more.

Zatanna was attempting to remove Jason’s mask, but winced and stopped when Jason whimpered.

The way Bruce’s chest clenched at _that._

Perhaps that was why he, without hesitation, fished out the glue relaxer from his belt and handed it to Zatanna.

Ordinarily, he would have been raising hell about anyone daring to take Robin’s mask off him. Without asking, at least. But whatever they needed. Whatever Zatanna or Raven or… or J’onn— what was J’onn doing?— whatever they needed, Bruce would do.

If it was for Jason, he’d do anything.

And actually, he would have removed Jason’s mask himself, but his hands were shaking too badly. And he couldn’t quite trust himself, yet. Not to start crying again. Not to collapse down. Not to freeze up and just stare at his child.

His child. Who was still covered in dirt and blood. Bruises and torn fabric.

Just the sight of _that_ made Bruce want to be sick.

And every time he blinked, he saw Jason’s swollen face. His still, too small, broken body. Feel him. In his arms. Warm, but not breathing. Light, but still limp.

How could this have happened?

J’onn moved to Jason’s head as soon as Raven stepped back. It was a little disconcerting, the way they moved, as if in sync. Raven shifted down to Jason’s arms, and started working on his left wrist, which was hopelessly mangled.

Bruce didn’t want to think about it.

What had even _happened_ to Jason? What had Joker _done?_

J’onn placed his hands on either side of Jason’s head, then closed his eyes. After a second, his eyes started glowing, and Bruce gawked.

He’d seen Martian Manhunter do that. _Many_ times.

Always while in deep concentration. And always while waging psychic warfare.

_While out on missions._

“What is J’onn doing?” he asked, not really sure who he was asking. Not J’onn, obviously. Or Raven, probably. She was no longer reacting to the pain Bruce _knew_ she had to be taking away from Jason, but she was just as lost to them as J’onn was.

Zatanna grimaced as she continued to gently work the mask off Jason’s face. Her stricken look only lasted a second, however, before she put on the a face of indifference Bruce was much more used to. Professional detachment.

If Bruce hadn’t already felt like throwing up, he would have started then, for sure.

“Raven fixed the physical injuries,” she explained, still gently pulling at the last edge of Jason’s mask. She was being overly gentle. Neither of his boys had ever taken a mask off that slowly. But he supposed causing Jason even an _ounce more_ of pain was not something any of them wanted to do.

“But he suffered a great deal of brain damage,” she continued, after a breath, “J’onn is attempting to correct the mental damage.”

Bruce _heard_ was she said.

Obviously.

But after the words “brain damage,” his own head stopped working.

He felt himself losing it again.

_Brain damage._

Of course Bruce should have been expecting it.

He’d clearly been hit in the head with something hard.

Several times.

_What the fuck had Joker done to him?_

Of course that would cause damage.

Not the mention the fact he’d been without oxygen for who knew how long. He’d have to review the cowl footage to figure that out.

He’d have to review the cowl footage anyway… to make up for the gaps in his own memory. To figure out how the hell Clark had gotten there, and how long, exactly, it took to find Jason.

A strong hand caught him as he stumbled backward. The grip on his upper arm the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“Take a breath,” Clark said, once Bruce had regained his feet, “They’re doing everything they can.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, running a hand over his face. His… uncowled face. How long had that been off?

He needed to keep it together. Jason was _alive._ There was… was no sense in worrying about… about brain damage.

_They were doing everything they could._

What if it wasn’t enough?

Jason whimpered again, making Bruce inhale sharply. He sounded so _scared._

Had he been scared? The entire beating?

The whole time Bruce had _abandoned him_ to this entire ordeal?

Bruce… Bruce was never going to forgive himself for this.

And he was _never_ going to let Jason out of his sight again.

Whimpering quickly shifted to outright crying, and Bruce hadn’t been aware it was possible for his heart to break further.

“Shh,” he whispered, only then noticing he’d made his way across the room, and was now standing at Jason’s side, one hand on Jason’s chest. Raven hadn’t fixed his hands yet. He knew touching the hopelessly mangled hands of his son would just hurt him further.

Never in his life had he wanted to hold his child’s hand more than in that moment.

And with J’onn still working on his head, he couldn’t even run his fingers through Jason’s dirty hair. All he could do was pat his chest, so that’s what he did, as he continued to shush him.

“B-br-br-“ Jason mumbled, interspersed between breathless sobs, “bru- b- _”_

“I’m right here,” he said, tears building in his eyes again as he rubbed circles over Jason’s heart. Right where the bones had been so broken, he couldn’t-

“ _Dad,”_ Jason begged, like he wasn’t even aware Bruce was _there._ He was _right there._

“I’m here, Jay. I’m right here. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“He’s starting to squirm,” Zatanna murmured, and Bruce nodded.

Fidgeting would do nothing but cause Jason more pain. Healing him would be much easier if he was still, too, Bruce was sure.

“Jason, buddy,” he said, pulling one of his gloves off so he could brush his knuckles against Jason’s cheek, “Sweetheart, you need to calm down. You’re okay.”

But, again, Jason didn’t seem to notice. Bruce wasn’t sure if he were even conscious.

He hoped he _wasn’t_ conscious.

Bruce looked around the room to see Clark standing off to the side, arms crossed as he watched Raven work. Zatanna was working on removing one of Jason’s boots, so she could heal his feet, Bruce assumed. And Raven was still working on Jason’s left arm.

No one was really paying him any attention.

Which was good.

It would make it easier…

He closed his eyes as he leaned forward, closer to Jason’s ear, because it was _for_ Jason that he started humming. Low and quiet, as he gently stroked Jason’s cheek.

Nothing in particular. Not at first. Just sounds, for Jason to hear.

But it worked. Jason’s crying quieted. He was still whimpering, but clearly he’d _noticed_ Bruce’s humming.

Jason loved Bruce’s singing. He’d learned that one day, a couple years back, on a road trip. He’d been singing along to the radio, and must have been much louder than he thought he was. Instead of tell him to shut up, Jason had just sat there, listening. Calm and still. Almost content looking.

Considering Jason had been _pissed_ he was being forced to sit in the back seat, rather up front where it was too dangerous for a child of his size, Bruce hadn’t wanted to stop, so he sang along to the next several songs that came up on the classics channel he had on, and by song five, Jason had drifted off to sleep.

It’d been years, now, since that discovery. Bruce had sang to Jason a couple times since, but only when they were alone. Late at night, when Jason was too terrified to sleep. In the cave, after a particularly bad injury. Once. When Jason had the flu and was outright _miserable._

They never spoke about it after it happened. Both of them just pretending Bruce didn’t sing Jason to sleep sometimes. But, not for the first time, Bruce so _so glad_ to have the ability.

He would do _anything_ to make Jason more comfortable. To help him along.

To have him alive.

The random melodies shifted to some of his favorite songs, until he found himself _actually_ singing. He tried to ignore all the eyes he could feel on himself and instead focused on how Jason had gone completely still, almost relaxed, as Bruce sang a song that had particularly spoken to him some years ago, when he first heard it.

At the time it’d reminded him of Dick, but every single word was no less applicable toward Jason. He kept his eyes closed as he sang _You’ll be in my Heart,_ as quietly and soothingly as he could.

Jason sighed contentedly in his sleep, allowing everyone around him work.

\- - -

Bruce could not honestly say how many hours it took Raven, Zatanna, and J’onn to heal Jason.

The entire ordeal was a gigantic blur to him. Someone had found him a chair, at some point, and that’s where he’d sat for what felt like an _eternity,_ watching Raven and Zatanna take turns working on Jason’s many broken bones.

“…almost every bone in his body,” Zatanna had said.

“…with a crowbar,” J’onn had revealed.

Bruce could barely listen. Barely keep up. All he could think about was Jason’s _face._ Broken beyond recognition.

But they finally finished healing Jason. He looked perfect, when they were done. Like he were just sleeping, like any other Tuesday. Asleep in his bed, right where he belonged. Just as fifteen-year-old boys should be. Safe and sound.

Bruce barely had the chance to say “Thank you,” to them before Zatanna was helping Raven out of the room and to her own quarters to rest. Her efforts had _drained_ her.

“Thank You” wouldn’t suffice, anyway.

There weren’t words in the English language to convey how _grateful_ he was to them all. As he twirled one of Jason’s curls around his finger, all he could think about was how he’d almost never been able to _look_ at those curls again.

Much less touch them.

He’d come so close to never hearing his child again. Never holding him. Never talking to him. Reading with him. Playing with him.

Working with him.

Jason had almost _died_ that night.

He _had_ died. For how long, Bruce had no idea.

His son had _died._

And now, thanks to Raven and Zatanna and J’onn and Clark…

Thanks to them all. He was _back._

Bruce-He had- he couldn’t-

There weren’t words.

Bruce freed his hand from Jason’s curls so he could press his fingers into his eyes. He’d already cried a lot, he was pretty sure. Right in front of everyone. But now that he was back in his right mind, there was really no excuse.

He needed to _stop._

Besides, how helpful would it be for Jason, if he woke up and the first thing he saw was Batman crying?

“He’s going to be all right, you know,” Clark said, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“But he wasn’t,” Bruce said, and he was almost proud of himself for not sounding completely torn up inside.

Even though he was.

“Yeah, but he is now.”

_But he wasn’t._

How much of that was Bruce’s fault?

All of it.

Had he just been faster. Had he not abandoned Jason there in the first place. He _knew_ his son never listened. Why the hell did he trust him this time? This was what Jason _did._

Why had he made Jason Robin to begin with…

Maybe that was the real problem here.

Why had he made Jason Robin to begin with.

What made him look a kid, barely 4 feet tall, and think “yes. He should be Robin.”

No. Dumb question.

Bruce knew why.

He’d wanted _Jason._ Not as Robin, necessarily. But just… Jason.

Jason Todd. The sassy, funny, strong, resourceful, arrogant, confident little kid he’d met. The brilliant street child with a heart of gold who desperately needed help.

All he had wanted to do was _help_ Jason. Take him home and _keep_ him.

And the only way he’d seen to do that was by making Jason Robin. By giving him a job and a purpose and a _place._

Maybe he should have just told Jason straight up… Been honest with him and told him he just wanted to adopt him. Because he’d adored him from not even ten seconds into knowing him.

But that would have scared Jason off, he just knew it. Jason had been so _skittish._

By making it about Robin, it had been far easier to integrate Jason into the family. To convince him to be adopted.

To make him his son.

That’s all Bruce _wanted._

But look where that had gotten them…

Would Jason have faced death, had Bruce just never even met him? Had he just let Jason be? Report him to social services? Get him into a good boarding school?

Maybe. There was no telling.

He could have _also_ just been murdered by the gangs. Starved to death. Kidnapped…

Bruce spent he had no idea how long just sitting there. Clark left after a while, with little more than a pat to his back and Jason’s knee.

How was he going to move past this?

Every time he looked at Jason, all he could see was his injuries.

If there was anything this entire ordeal had taught him, it was that firing Jason had been the right call.

Now he’d just have to find a way to _enforce_ that.

Honestly. Bruce was going to have a hard time going back out, himself. The panic that still gripped at his mind would need to recede, a little, before he could even consider going out. Right now he didn’t want to even leave Jason’s side.

Some ten minutes passed, as Bruce just sat there, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and _not_ thinking about anything. He kept his face buried in his heads, so he wasn’t looking at Jason and _thinking._ It was enough to just _hear_ his son breathe. Deep and clear. Like nothing had happened. Like he were just asleep, after a long day.

It was comforting.

But that stopped abruptly, when Jason took a deep breath and shifted, a little, on the cot. Bruce looked up at him through his fingers, and saw Jason staring right back at him. With his _beautiful_ blue eyes.

Alert and _alive._

“Bruce?” he asked, furrowing his brow as he propped himself up on an elbow, “Are you crying?”

“No,” he said, smiling a little as he sat up and brushed Jason’s curls back, away from his beautiful eyes Bruce never wanted to look away from.

Jason didn’t buy it, even though he _should_ have. Because Bruce _wasn’t_ crying.

Although he kind of felt like doing so. Because so far, Jason seemed _fine._

“Have you _been_ crying?” he asked, leveling Bruce a quizzical look when Bruce stood and gently pushed Jason back into a lying position.

“Never mind that, Jay. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Jason said, frowning deeply now, “Really stiff, too. Where are we?”

Raven had mentioned something about stiffness. It would wear off, after a few days.

“Watchtower.”

“Why are we…” Jason started, then it seemed to register what Bruce actually said, because his eyes went side and he added, “ _Really?_ I’m in _space_ right now?”

Bruce laughed. A little hysterically, maybe, as he set his hand at the top of Jason’s head so he could plant a kiss on his forehead.

He was just so…. _Relieved._

Because he was still _Jason._

J’onn hadn’t been sure he’d be able to fix the damage, but he was still _Jason._

“Stay down,” Bruce said, gently, as he used his hand not combing through Jason’s hair to prevent him from sitting up when he tried, “I’ll let you explore later. Rest, now.”

“What happened, Bruce?” Jason asked, a little suspiciously, “Why are we on Watchtower? Why have you been crying?”

With a sigh, Bruce pulled his chair closer and sat down, then took one of Jason’s hands in his own.

Jason looked down at their hands, then backup at Bruce, with a spark of fear in his eyes. “Bruce?”

Bruce squeezed, then asked, “What do you remember?”

Not much, was Bruce’s hope. J’onn said he took Jason’s memories of the event, claiming Jason didn’t need the trauma associated with it. Not remembering would be easier on him, he’d claimed. Bruce hoped he was right.

“I-“ Jason started, looking back down at his hand in Bruce’s, then back up in confusion as he continued, “I got on the plane. To Ethiopia.”

When all Bruce did was nod, Jason continued, “I was going to meet my mother.”

Bruce waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. He just sat there, brow furrowed in concentration as he stared off at the wall behind Bruce.

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted, “I don’t even remember landing. Did the plane crash?”

J’onn took more than Bruce thought.

“No, it landed.”

“Why, then,” Jason asked, trailing off as he just stared at Bruce. Waiting for the answers he obviously knew Bruce had.

So Bruce sighed, and explained as plainly as possible, “Joker was there, Shelia wound up being involved with him. It had been a trap.” Perhaps it was a blessing he didn’t remember meeting his mother. He’d been trying to figure out _how_ Joker knew where Jason was, and the only explanation he could come up with was Shelia sold him out. Even after Jason offered to help her, she sold him out.

She _had_ to have. There was no other explanation.

“What?” Jason asked, clearly startled.

Before he could panic over any of that, Bruce quickly said, “But it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“What about my mom?” Jason demanded, trying to sit up again, which Bruce prevented, “Is she okay? What did that _bastard_ do to her?”

Bruce… wasn’t entirely sure. He had no recollection of what happened to Shelia after she said Jason saved her. He barely remembered what happened to _himself_ in those minutes. Clark… Clark was there. He wouldn’t have let a random civilian die.

“She’s alive. She told me you saved her.”

Jason eyed Bruce for a good long second, before he finally nodded, and asked a little shakily, “What- what happened to me?”

Shaking his head, Bruce went back to playing with Jason’s hair as he did, “All that matters is you’re okay, now.”

“ _Bruce.”_

Yeah. He didn’t think he’d get away with that.

Sighing, Bruce sat back up and said, “It- I’m not entirely sure. There was an explosion. I found you- I-“

How was he supposed to tell his fifteen-year-old son he found him dead on arrival?

He _wasn’t._

That was _not_ something Jason needed to know. All that mattered was he was fine, _now._

 _“_ You were pretty hurt, but Raven, Zatanna, and Martian Manhunter fixed you up. Superman is the one who got us up here once I found you.”

Jason nodded, as he absorbed that information. “How did you know I was there?”

Bruce could cry, from the relief that Jason _accepted_ that as explanation enough. “I followed you, Jay. Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“I-“ Jay started, but faltered. Averted his eyes and sighed. Like…

Like he honestly thought Bruce _wouldn’t_ follow him.

“God, Jason,” he exhaled, squeezing Jason’s hand still in his while he rubbed at his own face with the other, “I love you, _so much._ You’re my son, I would do _anything_ for you. Please- please don’t do this to me again. I can’t _lose_ you. I can’t.”

“But-,” Jason started, a little tearfully as he did, “But you-“

When he didn’t elaborate, Bruce pressed with, “But what?”

“You fired me.”

“How does that contradict _anything_ I just said,” Bruce asked lightly, shaking his head some. Because of _course_ Bruce fired him. Any sane person would have tried to protect their child the way Bruce had.

Any sane person would have never let their child out there in the first place…

Jason sat up, then, swatting away Bruce’s hand before he could even attempt to keep Jason lying down. “You-you-,” he said, a little desperately, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“No,” he almost growled, standing so he could pull Jason to his chest. Hug him tightly and _squash_ that horrible, awful thought. “How could you think that? Jay there will never be a day I don’t want you anymore.”

“But-“ Jason started, but Bruce wasn’t going to hear it.

He pushed Jason back, grabbing onto his face with both hands. “I’m serious. I love you, Jason Peter. I fired you _because_ I love you. You’ve been too reckless, lately. Getting hurt too much. I can’t _lose you,_ son. And tonight, tonight-“

“Why didn’t you tell me that,” Jason asked, crying some as he pulled his face out of Bruce’s hands so he could bury it in Bruce’s chest.

Bruce wrapped his arms back around his son and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Because I’m an idiot,” he said, which got Jason to laugh, a little. But he added, more seriously, “I thought you knew.”

“I can’t stop being Robin.”

“ _Jason._ You almost died, tonight.” You _did_ die, he thought bitterly.

“Can you stop being Batman?” he asked, his head still resting against Bruce’s chest as he did, “I’ll- I’ll do whatever you want. To make it _safer._ But I can’t _quit.”_

“Okay,” Bruce sighed. He still had no intention on allowing him back out _any time soon._

If ever.

But he was done arguing about it. That was something they could do _later._ After Bruce had worked through everything. Looked through the footage and figured out what, _exactly,_ happened.

In that moment, all he wanted to do was hold his son. They could worry about _everything_ later.

“Just, get some rest, son,” he said, hugging Jason a little tighter before he reluctantly let go, so Jason could lay back down, “Raven said you need to rest for a while.”

Jason let go of Bruce and slowly lowered himself back onto the cot. After he rolled onto his side, he looked up at Bruce and said, “You’ll stay?”

“Of course,” he said, pulling his chair back so he could sit there again and caress Jason’s hair again, “Always.”

“Were you singing earlier?” Jason mumbled, already closing his eyes.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure if he was happy Jason remembered or not.

“Can you sing again?”

“Anything for you,” he whispered, before giving Jason one last kiss on his forehead before he sang his little boy to sleep.

“Anything for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be much longer, but I wrote most of this in November then forgot about it until 2am last night, when I decided I had to finish it. So I may or may not add more 'chapters' to it in the future, but for the moment I'm calling it done.
> 
> [Cross posted to Tumblr](https://cdelphiki.tumblr.com/post/617314785453899776/bruce-was-a-mere-half-mile-from-the-warehouse-when)


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